


Turn My Grief To Grace

by mockingjayne



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:41:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 20,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21746956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mockingjayne/pseuds/mockingjayne
Summary: A collection of Gleggie one shots.
Relationships: Maggie Greene & Glenn Rhee, Maggie Greene/Glenn Rhee
Kudos: 17





	1. Chapter 1

"Maggie that's so gross!"

“What?” she asks, the sticky peanut butter glistening in the light as it precariously hangs, a huge glob on the end of the pickle - the offending object frozen halfway between the jar it was just dipped in, and her eager, hungry mouth.

“You’ve had a lot of weird cravings lately, but this is by far the grossest one yet,” Glenn says with a laugh and a shake of his head.

She points the pickle at him in an accusing way, the kind that has him fighting a grin at her antics lately, their child giving her a nose like a bloodhound and the refined palette of a five year old.

He raises his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay, whatever baby wants, baby gets,” he appeases, the grin he was fighting breaking through, as he leans over to place a kiss on her forehead.


	2. Chapter 2

"Why are you sleeping out here?" Maggie tilted her head in confusion at Enid, who was curled up on the grass outside woman's trailer.

Enid hides her face, a slight blush coming to cover her already rosy cheeks, the inquisitive stare of her somewhat surrogate mother/sister weighing down on the young girl.

“Umm, I just…I thought maybe you and Glenn needed some…” she hesitates, not sure how to finish the sentence without making things more awkward than they already are. “Alone time…you know,” she finishes, playing with a frayed thread on the blanket she has wrapped around her.

Maggie shakes her head with a small laugh, and holds out her hand to the embarrassed girl, helping her up off the ground, her own blush making its way up on her neck as the meaning of Enid’s words wash over her.

“Come on inside, I promise, it’ll be strictly G rated in there, although watching Glenn turn ten shades of red at your suggestion of what we were doing is gonna be fun,” Maggie teases.


	3. Chapter 3

"He's so cute."

Maggie shakes her head at his antics, but a small smile makes its way across her face.

“How can you tell?” she asks, a hint of mirth in her voice.

“Maggie, that’s our son, of course he’s going to be cute,” he explains with such confidence she can’t argue with him on that point.

“You know it could be a girl,” she says, as she rearranges the dishes on the shelf on the far wall, as Glenn sits at the table with complete concentration and a goofy smile.

“No way, a boy, for sure,” complete certainty present, not even looking up at her.

She meanders her way to the table, pulling out the chair next to him, settling her elbow on the table, her eyes narrowing in on the slice of pie sitting in front of him, his focus on the sonogram in his hands. She reaches out, picking a piece of the crust for herself, and eats it with a look of complete satisfaction. She lowers her head, having leaned back to sprinkle the crumbs in her mouth, only to be met with the stare of her husband.

“Did you just steal my pie?” he says, voice filled with a rumble of laughter.

“What’s yours is mine, babe,” not even a hint of guilt present on her face. “And your son wants pie,” she teases. 

It’s his turn to shake his head, and goes back to looking at their most recent sonogram. Maggie leans over his shoulder, their baby looking more like a gummy bear than a person. But the look of pure love reflecting on Glenn’s face as he stares at the image…

“You’re right, he is so cute,” she agrees with him, taking another piece of his pie, her hand coming to rest on her still flat stomach.


	4. Chapter 4

"I'm so sorry."

She nods, busying herself with the dishes, their earlier argument have called attention to them from the entire group.

“Sure,” he hears over the water, her ponytail swaying as she scrubs the empty plate, remnants of food long since headed down the drain. Her frustration seen in the tense of her shoulders, her belt buckle scraping against the counter with her movements.

“Maggie, I’m sorry,” he approaches her, stilling her soapy hands with his own, but she refuses to look at him. “I didn’t…I didn’t mean to…”

“But ya did,” she counters, looking him in the eye, fiery emeralds lashing out at him. “We agreed. You broke your promise.”

He hangs his head in shame, never wanting to disappoint her, but she’s right, he’d gone outside the gate on a wild goose chase, breaking the promise they’d made to never be apart again after their close call…calls.

“Nothing happened,” he assures her. “I’m right here,” he brings her hand to rest upon his chest, the thumping of steady heart offered as proof of his safety.

“We won’t always be this lucky,” she argues, knowing first hand how quickly and easily the ones you love can slip right through your fingers.

“I’ll be more careful,” he offers, and is met with a heavy sigh from her. “We’re okay. All of us,” his eyes glancing down at her stomach.

“For now,” she whispers, her fingers gripping at his shirt, not wanting to let him go.


	5. Chapter 5

"I'm better than the time that we got together."

An incredulous look spreads across her face, her lips pressed together to hold back her laughter.

“Glenn,” she tries, a blush creeping up his face, but he continues his explanation.

“It just…it caught me off guard…and I didn’t know if we were safe…” She raises her eyebrow at that. “I mean, yeah, yeah, we were safe…safe…but safe from danger. I could….it could be better,” he reasons, removing his cap and twisting it with nervous hands.

“Ya done?” she questions, stepping away from the house. “Or do ya wanna keep talkin’ so the whole group, or better yet my father, hears why you think the sex could be better?”

He bows his head in even more embarrassment, a strangled voice coming out. “I’m sorry, I just…I’m sorry, Maggie.” His whole body just completely defeated.

“Quit apologizin’ unless you think it was a mistake…?” she questions, expectant eyes waiting for his response. He stumbles towards her.

“No, no. Never…unless you do…,” her ability to make him a rambling mess, treading through unchartered waters showcasing every insecurity never more evident.

She shakes her head, a silent no passing between them.

He lets out a sigh of relief, and then she’s grabbing his hand, leading him down the porch steps.

“Where are we going?”

“We still got eleven condoms, don’t we?” He nods, a goofy smile accompanied with another blush covering his face. “Well let’s get to it then,” she says with a wink.


	6. Chapter 6

"You're nicer than all the other guys from before."

They’re huddled in the corner of the room of the most recent abandoned house they’d come across. Their noses are a breath apart, her legs entangled with his own, her hand resting comfortably on his clothed chest.

“Ahh, the nice guy,” his whisper traveling across her face, blowing the stray hair hanging in her face in a fluttery dance between them. “I uhh, I got that a lot before.”

He nervously ducks his head, a light blush covering his face, and she can feel the heat from his embarrassment even in the muggy house. Her hand bends to wrap around his shirt, refusing to let go to him, even when self-deprecation threatened to doom them.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” she says with a raise of her brow, her lips pursing together in a way that she was quickly finding out he couldn’t ignore. The insistence with which she delivered her words measured by the movement of her lips, their level of certainty ringing true to him more often than not.

“Well,” he blushes with a quirk of his mouth in a quiet grin. “You now what they say about nice guys…” he leads, his hand reaching out to pull the wisps of her hair back, allowing her stare to further penetrate the shaky quality of his voice.

“No,” she says with a soft giggle.

They hear a rustling from across the room, and she leans forward, looking over him to make sure they hadn’t woken anyone. 

The suggestion of going to another room had been quickly vetoed, the odds of survival multiplying if they stuck together. However, the odds of a private conversation occurring were also made low in the presence of audience even in sleep.

Their moments were few and far between, but they always found themselves like this, up late at night, quiet whispers, and silently shared kisses exchanged with baited breath that they’d wake the others or worse.

“We’re good,” she clears, settling back into him, resting her head on his arm. “So what do they say?” She asks with a big smile.

He doesn’t answer immediately, instead tracing the lines of her face with his thumb, and her smile falls into quiet contentment, as she lets him explore her.

Burying his head into her neck, she feels his lips dance over her pulse point.

“They finish last,” he mutters, and she swears she can feel the words drill their way into her, settling in the pit of her stomach.

“Hmm,” she hums. Her hand coming to run through his hair, the black locks growing longer as the weeks pass. Her cheek rests against his own, and for a moment she swears she feels safe. “Does it look like you’re finishing last?”

He pulls his head from its position, meeting her gaze. A smug grin appearing on his face, the kind that she only sees when he’s trying to be smooth.

“It doesn’t look like either of us are finishing tonight,” he manages to say before a howl of laughter erupts from her.

“God, would you two shut up,” they hear, with collective agreement from the rest, a narrowed eye from her dad being cast in their general direction, with the unmistakable giggle of her sister at their position.

She muffles her laugher into him, and he pinks at the attention from everyone else.

“Sorry, sorry,” he apologizes for them.

She shakes her head, trying to control herself from another outburst.

“See, always the nice guy.”


	7. Chapter 7

"Wait, you both want to adopt me?" Enid questioned the couples sudden proposal.

Maggie smiled down at the table, the loose tendrils from her ponytail moving to cover her expression.

“Well, as officially as you can get here,” she says, gesturing to the house they had called home. They’d slowly, but surely grown to acknowledge this place as home. She’d spent many a night imagining herself in this empty house alone, her sobs late at night when no one could see her, echoing through the house that will soon hold the cries of an infant, if they’re lucky.

She’d learned her lesson multiple times over…never take family for granted. And once you find someone worthy of that title, cling to them, let them know, and love as fiercely as you can.

When Glenn had come back with the the teenager, tales of her assistance in getting him home to her, the connection had been immediate for her. The girl was sullen, sulking off on her own more often than not, a rebellious streak rooted in fear, but a heart as giving and kind as the sister she’d grown up with.

Enid leans back in her chair, her arms crossed, eyes narrowed. Maggie recognized that look, the one that said this was too good to be true, self-sabotage right around the corner.

“I’m not calling you Mom and Dad,” she says.

Glenn laughs at that.

“I wouldn’t expect you to,” he grins back at her. “I’m much too young for that.”

Maggie fights back a smile at that, resting her arms on the table, leaning forward, raising her eyebrow at her husband.

“Umm, you know, too young to have someone her age call me that,” he stumbles under her gaze. “But I mean obviously not too young for the baby…” He stops, looking up at even Enid trying to mask the smile that mirrors the woman sitting beside him.

Enid’s face steels quickly after the light moment, her defenses not allowing her to fully appreciate the moment.

“So what exactly does that mean? Adopt?”

Maggie glances at Glenn, a soft smile appearing with an almost imperceptible nod.

“Well for starters, you live here with us,” Maggie starts. “We look out for each other. We take care of each other. We’re–”

“–a family,” Glenn finishes for her, grabbing Maggie’s hand, her warm fingers gripping her closely.

Enid’s bottom lip resembles something of a quiver, but it’s quickly shaken off.

“And what happens if you die?”

The question has Glenn frowning, the idea of death something that always seemed imminent. Maggie sees the shift, and turns her hand over, lacing their fingers, the unification they’d displayed since the early days.

She can remember a time when he’d pushed her away. He thought being alone, being distant was safer than attaching himself to someone, to worry that him not coming home would lead to the heartbreak of someone he cared about. She sees that same fear in Enid.

But what he’d quickly realized, what she’d helped him realize, was that having a reason to come home only increased your fight. That missing experiences, pushing away love was only denying you the life you were trying so hard to preserve.

“We live,” Maggie claims confidently. “We live for the ones who can’t.”

The words taste metallic in her mouth, like blood being beaten from her. But she knows it’s the truth. She’d done it before. She thought she was going to have to do it again. 

Enid nods. “Glenn said something similar…before,” she admits.

“I learned from the best,” he says with a squeeze of his wife’s hand. “So what do you say?”

“Family…” she hesitantly agrees, her words sealing their connection.

“Is how you survive,” Glenn offers with a smile.


	8. Chapter 8

"I can't believe you sucker punched someone."

He grabs her hand, moving it closer to him, inspecting the bruised knuckles reddening in the sunlight.

“He deserved it,” she says with a straight face, lips pursed, but her eyes dancing with mirth.

His thumb moves over her knuckles, marred by the damage they’d done. A slight wince escapes her her lips, and he glances up at her green eyes, almost translucent in the glow of rays casting down on them. 

“Remind me not to mess with you,” he jokes, a shy smile coming to his face, as he continues holding her hand, not wanting to lose the moment, but unsure how long she’d allow him this gesture.

“Somethin’ tells me you wouldn’t make the comments he does,” she says with a jerk of her head towards Shane, who was pacing back and forth, cursing loud enough to hear, rubbing circles into his shaved head.

“Oh, uhh, no,” Glenn stumbles out, ducking his head so she can’t see the heat rushing to his ears. But the grin spreading across her face tells him she knows she’s making him uncomfortable.

“So tell me,” she demands, taking her hand from his, inspecting it for herself, before shrugging off the damage. “What’s a nice guy like you doing with the likes of…him?” The eye roll not going unnoticed as she references her target.

He awkwardly adjusts his baseball cap, his mouth opening, but words leaving him with nothing but silence. Her brow arches, waiting for his response, but he remains quiet. The strands of hair caught in her eyelashes, dance across her face, as she waits for his answer, her chin jutting out in the way only he’d seen her do, the smell of fruit lingering on the tip of his tongue.

It’s not until she ducks her head, stepping closer to him that he snaps out of his reverie with a shake of his head.

“Uhh, what?” He asks again, earning him a short laugh.

“You’re kinda spacey, aren’t ya?” She teases, hitting the bill of his hat, lowering it into his face with a satisfied grin.

“What was that for?” He asks, straightening his hat back on, but he couldn’t even act annoyed, not with her smiling at him like that.

“You’re cute,” she answers with a scrunch of her nose and a tilt of her head, her short hair punctuated across her face with the freckles adorning her, and then she turns to leave, heading in the opposite direction of the house.

“Maggie, wait,” he says, tripping behind her, not quite sure of what kind of interaction had just occurred. The lines long since muddled after their trip to the pharmacy, her assurance she didn’t even know if she liked him, and then this. Whatever this had been.

She turns around, but continues walking backwards.

“You comin’?” She baits in that southern drawl that seemed to sound more attractive by the second.

“Coming where?” His question bringing her and subsequently him to a halt.

She moves dangerously close, the tips of her boots coming out to touch his sneakers, her lips a breath away form his own. Her dark eyelashes accentuating the green of her eyes in stark contrast, a slight squint present due to the light, but the subject of her gaze on him.

“I think we need another trip to the pharmacy,” she mutters with a glint of mischief.

He takes a big gulp, this proximity of the two of them paired with her suggestion giving way to the blush from earlier to reappear.

“For…for your hand?” He asks, nerves leaking into his voice.

She leans in, bringing her lips to his ear, and he swears she can hear his heartbeat through his chest, as he wipes his sweaty hands on his jeans.

“Nope,” she whispers, backing up to leave him with her proposition.

His mouth hangs open at her wide grin, a quick glance around telling him that no one was going to miss them.

“So whaddya say? You comin’?”

A silent nod and goofy grin is all she needs to turn and head off, him slightly running to catch up with her quick gait.

“Oh yeah,” he says. “I’m definitely coming,” not even seeing the bruised hand that comes out to lightly smack his chest at his comment.


	9. Chapter 9

Maggie stares down at her stomach, blocking her feet, and straining the t-shirt that had once hung loosely on her lithe frame. Her hands come to run smoothly over the bump, the one that kicks back now, silent, but swift reminders that there was still something to protect.

The fear grew within in with every inch of her waistline, multiplying each day with a new form of anxiety. There had been so many close calls that required a light foot to hide when the Saviors came to collect. The quick thinking was always there, but the speedy exits were few and far between these days.

Her ring, displayed prominently on her finger gives weight to the movement of her hands over her baby, traveling over a sea of green fabric. A close-mouthed smile appearing on her face as the baby make its presence known.

“You look beautiful,” she hears behind in her in a soft voice. The familiarity of its tone leaving her without a need to turn to see who said it.

“I feel huge,” she responds, her eyes closing, stray tendrils of her hair falling into her face. It had grown longer since chopping it off, resembling the Maggie from before, the one who walked freely outside the walls with nothing but determination and a faith of finding her husband.

He approaches her from behind, his hand coming out to sweep her hair behind her ear, having not yet put her hat on for the day.

“I hear that’s a side effect of pregnancy,” he says with a laugh and a goofy grin, his lips meeting the juncture between her neck and shoulder.

“I heard you also get a baby out of it too,” she teases, turning her head to meet his soft, brown eyes.

He buries his face in her hair, his arms snaking around her torso, spreading them out across her stomach.

“I heard that too,” he whispers, staring down at their hands displayed together over their hope. “Seems like a fair trade.”

“For you,” she scoffs. She’d spent so many months not showing, her flat abdomen defying odds, the only evidence of a baby in the appointments with her doctor and the overeager appetite that never seemed to dim. She’d had morning sickness, but after that ceased, the worry squeezed its way in, wanting, needing more proof that the baby was okay.

“If I could trade places with you, I would,” he offers as a joke, but she knows he’s serious, genuine in a way only Glenn could be. His honesty tinged in every word, laced with a sincerity only he could achieve.

“I almost wish I could keep it in here forever, make sure it’s safe, you know?” She voices her fear. The thought having passed her thoughts more than a few times.

“Then you’d really be huge,” he mocks with a kiss to her neck.

“It’s not funny,” she says, her sullen tone indicating no matter how implausible the idea, it was a wish nonetheless.

He smiles into her.

“Wasn’t it you who told me we could do this?”

She remains silent, the plan of the past seeming a more daunting task the closer it got to being a reality.

“We can still do this, Maggie,” he assures her, pulling her further back into him.

She nods, her hand coming to lace between his own, continuing to rest on her ever growing stomach.

_They could do this._


	10. Chapter 10

"I'm sorry about all my mood swings."

Maggie rests on the edge of their cot. Tears brimming in her green eyes, threatening to spill over. Enid laughs in the corner, cutting up some apples for her, but quickly stops when Glenn sends her a look.

Maggie moves to adjust the brim of her cap, trying to cover the emotional display, her moods having been all over the place these days.

Glenn had been more than understanding when it came to her, his patience rivaling that of a saint these days. The bigger her waist, the more unpredictable her moods. She’d done her best not to snap at him, but sometimes it slipped.

He’d made a simple joke, not unlike anytime before. But she’d snapped at him, the shock written all over his face, as his cheeks colored at the insult thrown directly at him.

The trailer had grown silent, Enid having stopped cutting for a second to see where the situation was going, the tension filling up the tiny space like a balloon ready to burst.

Maggie had carefully sunk to her place on the cot, her hand gripping the edge tightly until her knuckles turned a sickly white. It felt like blood in her mouth because she’d been biting her tongue so hard these days.

She feels a kick at her abdomen, even her baby chastising her for the harsh licking she’d given Glenn.

And as with the tide, the anger faded to sadness, guilt, and the once snapping Maggie turned to regretful tears.

“I’m sorry,” she sniffles out.

She can tell he’s fighting back at a smile at how drastically she was floating between the moods, a fine line being walked by him and everyone around them. The words “breathe a little louder, I dare ya,” having flown out of her mouth just yesterday.

Glenn had laughed as she lashed out on her latest victim, before profusely apologizing once the words were out of her mouth.

He carefully ventures towards her, and she feels something like a ticking bomb, ready to explode at any minute. While she never found herself wishing for this pregnancy to end quickly, the idea of keeping their baby safe a fear that she was constantly struggling with, she did wish for the release of this mean streak she couldn’t seem to shake.

He approaches her, hands up like he’s going to spook an animal, and it takes everything in her not to roll her eyes at the sweet man coming to comfort her.

Kneeling in front of her, his long hair falls into his eyes, and she finds her hand releasing itself from the edge, the color slowly making it ways back to her fingers, as they swipe the hair back from his eyes.

She hears the cutting resume of the fruit from Enid, the girl carrying a smile with her work.

“I don’t mean it, you know that, right?” She asks, tears trailing down her face, lips pursed, and Glenn just smiles back at her.

“I know,” he assures her, taking the hand on his face, and lacing their fingers and bringing them to rest on her lap.

“You’re too forgiving,” she sighs, her stomach gently pushing out with the deep breath and touching their hands.

He moves to stand, hovering above her, before placing a small kiss at her temple.

“So are you,” he whispers, no doubt referring to the endless amount of chances she’d afforded so many in the last handful of months.

She stares up at him, their hand still connected, dangling between them. And she gives a slight squeeze, communicating the adoration she had for him in one motion.

“Love ya,” she quietly speaks.

“Apples are ready,” Enid announces placing the plate on the table.

Glenn moves closer, grabbing her other hand, helping her to stand.

“And I really love you,” she says to Enid, as she reaches for a slice of apple, dipping it in peanut butter, and savoring the combination with a loud moan.

The two laugh at her. The mood having switched back to easy, content. But the storm always brewing for a change of winds.


	11. Chapter 11

"I thought it was a joke, that you couldn't handle alcohol."

Maggie settles against the prison wall, the cold concrete giving her sweaty back a reprieve from the humidity of the day dripping down her, soaking her shirt.

Glenn lets out a sort of giggle, his movement sloshing the liquid of his cup, spilling a few drops on their sheets.

Her fingers trace over the wet marks, a slow smile growing across her face, as Glenn continues to grin back at her, his eyes growing heavy, and his long hair drifting further and further into his face.

“Where did you hear that?” He jokes, laughing at his own comment, a red flush crawling up his face.

“Nowhere,” she says with a shake of her head, knowing full well the stories she’d heard from the group during a time before they’d entered her life. The giggling, blushing boy that had been described was sitting before her, the stress of the day slowly dissipating with every sip of alcohol he took.

“Are you sure you…don’t…want any?” He slurs a bit, holding out his drink to her.

She shakes her head, pushing the cup back to his chest.

“Where’d you get this stuff anyway?” She asks, amusement tinging her voice.

He wildly gestures out the curtain of their cell like that explained enough.

“Ahh,” she mocks, pretending like she knows exactly who he’s talking about.

They’d been lucky lately, fell into a routine of the prison since the addition of the Governor’s people had come to live with them. They had livestock and communal meals, and no deaths. That one was most important, no one had died.

Sometimes, late at night when she was on watch, she’d look out over their community, and she’d allow herself to daydream about the future. A luxury she hadn’t been afforded for so long that it felt good, it felt right to do so.

Every night, when neither of them were on watch, they’d crawl into bed, exhausted from the days chores, but ultimately content, happy, knowing that their family was safe, and that when the day broke, they’d be there, side by side, together.

However, the threat of the unknown, in all forms, always seemed to knock on their door, this time presenting itself in a situation that had her stomach tied in knots.

“All gone,” he says, tipping the cup back, and she’s pretty sure that’s the last of it in the prison. 

“I’m sure someone’ll be on the lookout for it on the run tomorrow,” she teases, his hand coming to his face, before he moves to lay down. She quickly moves her feet, his head hitting the pillow. Her legs coming to lay across his torso with a grunt from him.

He peeks at her from his position, and she fights back a smile at the state of him.

“You’re cute,” he says with a goofy grin, all teeth, and flushed cheeks.

She laughs at that, leaning back, and accidentally hitting her head against the wall.

“Oww,” she calls out, rubbing the back of her head, but only causing her laugh to continue at her clumsiness.

“You okay?” He asks concerned, trying to lean up, but his inebriated state, paired with half of her body draped over him, causes him to collapse back down with a thump.

“We’re a mess,” she proclaims.

“Ugh,” he groans, placing his arm over his eyes.

A silence falls over them, and her head dips to his hands, tracing the lines spanning across his palms, tickling his skin, causing them to twitch underneath her touch.

The words on the tip of her tongue, but refusing to make their way into fully formed sounds. The thought percolating in her mind, manifesting itself in her nerves, distracting her from her tasks, and always on the verge of pouring out when she even so much as glanced at Glenn.

Someone had shared with him the last their alcohol, and while never one to drink, less out of availability and more so because of his reaction, he’d suggested they drink it that night.

She’d slyly avoided it, instead finding humor in his rambling, focusing on the movement of his lips with each word, each laugh.

“Maggie,” he softly calls, breaking her out of her reverie, his hand coming to land on her shin.

She looks up, the smile never leaving his face.

“You okay?” He asks, his words etched in concern.

Her lips purse into a smile, as she nods from her position.

“I’m late,” the words tumble from her mouth, out in the open, instantly sobering their recipient.


	12. Chapter 12

It had started innocently on her part. The guy had been brought in to the prison, answering the questions in a way that had people trusting him. He was nice, and charming, and yeah, okay, good looking. But it wasn’t like she had been interested, not in that way.

They’d made friends, acquaintances, really, more so on his part than anything.

He’d spot her getting her food and come up, say hello, try to start a conversation. Truthfully, they had a lot in common, he reminded her of the guys from before, in a world where she’d probably settled for worse than she deserved, resulting in a flattened car more than a few times.

His hair was dark, and his eyes were blue, so very blue. The kind that could either offer you the sky or freeze over into ice. She always handled him with a certain distance between them, not wanting him to get the wrong idea, but also not wanting to be rude. After all, he hadn’t done anything wrong.

It was a fine line she had been treading.

She was never quite sure if he’d just chosen to blatantly ignore the rings on her finger or the not-so-subtle references to her husband, but he always seemed to glide the conversation right over that detail with a smile, and sometimes a wink.

That was usually her cue to exit, coming up with some excuse or another.

On that particular day, she hadn’t been in the mood to play his games, slyly avoiding the encounter whenever she spotted him. 

She wasn’t the only one who had noticed the friendly behavior towards her.

“Careful, darlin,’” had been warned from her Daddy. She’d rolled her eyes, given him a kiss on the cheek and said he worried too much about her.

But the words played in her head over and over as she worked fence duty, taking out her anger on the walkers piling up along the line.

She startles as a hand comes out to push her hair back from her face, but settles when she sees the soft brown eyes of Glenn smiling back at her.

“You scared me,” she says with a close mouthed grin, her hand coming up to link with the one distracted in her hair.

“What are you doing?” He asks, sitting down in the spot next to her.

“Just thinkin’ ‘bout stuff,” she offers, the ease of the past few weeks, and how seamlessly they had managed to create a routine, a real home for them all, blaring warning bells in her head that something was going to go wrong.

“Anything I can help with?” He offers, the ever sweet man always willing to carry whatever burden could be shadowing over her.

She turns towards him, her hand moving to trace one of his brows, his eyes closing as her rings make their way over his eye, and she can’t help but smile at the gesture, the same smile spreading across his own mouth.

“Does this have to do with that guy?” He practically whispers, his words hitting her hand on his face.

“Nope,” she says with a shake of her head. “He’s not worth my thoughts,” she assures him, placing a kiss on his forehead.

“I see the way he looks at you,” he tries, an almost defeated look about him.

“And do you see the way I look at him?” She asks, making sure his brown eyes are aligned with her own, all the love and affection she has to offer communicated to him.

Yeah,” he says with a laugh. “I wouldn’t want to be on the end of that look.”

She drops her hand with a laugh, bringing her forehead to rest against his shoulder, the steady warmth of him soaking into her.

Soft mutters come pouring out of her mouth, most of them lost, muffled in the material of his shirt.

“…and I want you,” she whispers, lifting her head briefly.

They share a smile, the weight of her words resting on the rings that adorn her finger, reflected back to each other in the glisten of their eyes.

So it comes to no one’s surprise later that day, when the man approaches Maggie at dinner, greeting her with a hand not so delicately placed on her ass, that the only thing he can be thankful for is that she’s not left handed, or else those same rings would’ve been indented into his face.

As the oohs and ahhs travel across the yard, as he sulks off with a bloody nose, a satisfied grin spreads across Glenn’s face, knowing that no one messes with his girl and gets away with it.


	13. Chapter 13

"That is the most ugliest thing I've ever seen," Maggie teases, yanking off the floppy hat that Glenn had taken from Dale to use as a replacement for the one she had ruined earlier that morning. A conspiratorial smile makes its way across her freckled face at the thought of smashing the egg over his head. The contents, yellow, dripping down his face, a look of disbelief mixed with one of hurt, but only a glint of satisfaction flitted across her own.

“Hey!” He rebukes, a tinge of red heating his cheeks with embarrassment at her comment, but he reaches for the hat all the same.

She reluctantly releases it into his grip, and he puts it back on his head with a prideful grin. 

“I think it looks good,” he taunts.

“You do, do ya?” Maggie replies right back, squinting at the glare of the lowering sun, one eye closed as she peeks at Glenn. He’s got a smile that suggest he’s never seen a bad thing in this world, his ugly hat making him ten times more adorable, his steadfast opinion that it somehow made him official on his duty as lookout.

He nods, with a smirk that has his lips pursed, sarcasm written across his face.

She looks back at the porch, the small group ignoring them in favor of their game, before leaning closer to Glenn, and she swears she can see him gulp like a nervous teenager in the movies. Her hands reach out, taking hold of the edges of the hat, adjusting it slightly so that it falls in just the right way, shielding his face in the shade from a blistering danger that has succumbed for the day.

“There,” she says, a finality about it, like she’d resigned herself to the ugly thing.

“Better?” He asks, straightening up so she can get a good look at him. 

“No,” she laughs, and she can see the hit to his ego, but he remains upright. “But you’re cute,” she replies, getting the blush she wants from him.

“I’m not…cute,” he hesitantly retorts, his back becoming hunched again.

She reaches out again, this time her hand landing on his cheek, bringing his eyes to meet her own. A closed mouthed smile appears on her lips, as her thumb traces the edges of his face, eventually running down the bridge of his nose, and she can feel the heat of the day making its way over him.

“Yes, you are,” she assures him, her hand landing on his knee, her word punctuated with a squeeze that signifies the words that were spoken earlier.

“You uhh, you really don’t like it?” He questions, all the confidence and bluster form earlier having fallen shy to her gaze at him, the anger and intensity long since dissipated, replaced with a different kind of intensity, wrapped in adoration.

“You look like you should be in line for the early bird special,” she jokes, snatching the hat from his head again.

He looks down, smoothing out his hair, as she examines the hat, a sigh escaping him at her insistence.

“Go get your cap, I’ll wash it for you, okay?” She offers as a peace offering, she decides it’s the least she can do after giving him crap all day, only to have him declare his concern for her, his actions explained with a need to protect her, to keep her safe, alive.

And she had every intention of doing so, until the next drama presented itself to them, danger always looming just around the corner. Glenn’s words from earlier continually presenting themselves as truth more so than hypothetical.

She slowly gets up, following behind him, knowing that despite their positions, he’d have her back. They were in this together.


	14. Chapter 14

The blood from the knife drips from the tip, staining the ground, the grass below watered with the life of him draining.

Maggie stands upright, firmly planted to the ground, the few strands of hair having escaped from her ponytail now dangling in her face, that now lay sprinkled with red dots having sprayed onto her. The liquid painting her face with a fog that seemed to have encompassed her in its wake.

This day had been one she had had nestled in the back of her mind since the lineup. The pain of that night manifesting in her physically, leaving her curled over and crying. The terror living inside her, and presenting itself in a strength and a plan that had led up to this moment.

She glances down, her round stomach no longer able to be hidden, instead prominently displayed, out in the open, vulnerable to the war around them. But she stays frozen, the body laying in front of her, unable to be reanimated, given the position of its wound. It had only seemed appropriate to take him out, once and for all, to the head, the same way he’d done that night. Relentless, overkill.

The sounds still haunted her at night, her eyes would close, and the screams began. With only the steady calm of a Rhee lulling her back to sleep, enclosed in the protection of his promises, one hand resting steadily on her stomach, the other clutching the watch.

When the war began, there were several who thought she’d eventually sit out when she got to be too big, there were even those that begged for it. But she refused, claiming this was just as much her fight as anyone else’s, and waiting like a sitting duck never felt right or anymore safe than being out in the action. 

Every casualty on their side felt like a stab to the heart, another wound to tend to while stumbling to the finish line. It was in those moments that only Glenn’s words could comfort her, the steady mantra of “We have to keep going,” played over and over in her head as she gripped the watch a little tighter in her pocket.

That morning, she’s struggled to sit upright in bed, the twinge in her back alerting her to overexertion, demanding she take a day for herself, for the baby, but she’d ignored the signs, instead trudging out of bed, pushing the pain to the back of her mind, as she gently rubbed her stomach, the silent kicks to her hand assuring her that everything would be okay. The worried looks shot her way only forcing her to hold back the truth, that she was crumbling.

But the plan had been set, and the opportunity had presented itself, and she wasn’t about to back out now. They’d separated, and looking back, that might have been what had done it. Her only regret that she hadn’t seen his eyes upon realizing who had finally gotten to him, the knife buried deep in the back of his head, taking him by surprise, the way he’d done that night.

He’d underestimated her, he wouldn’t any longer.

She thought that relief would’ve flooded her immediately, instead it had frozen her. The pain of the day having finally caught up to her, no longer hidden in the adrenaline. 

A weak scream can be heard, hunching her over, her back feeling like it’s going to snap in half, as her hand flies to her stomach.

“Maggie,” she hears, the voice getting closer, the trampling feet running towards her, the worry present even in the wind of the cadence floating carrying towards her.

A hand reaches out, touching her shoulder, and she doesn’t flinch, the touch familiar.

“Are you okay?” He asks, eyes wandering all around until it falls on the body in front of her, and then frantically searches around for others to come, but no one does.

“Glenn,” she gets out weakly, glancing up at him. “It’s over,” she tells him, her eyes pleading with him to understand.

He nods at her, their present nightmare done with until the next one begins.

Guiding her back, weapon at the ready, he’s quietly joined by other members, word spreading of Maggie’s takedown, a protective circle forms around her.

Glenn grips her hand tightly, refusing to let go, soft assurances whispered into her, the way it was always supposed to be.


	15. Chapter 15

Maggie stared up at the inside of the giant house, the ceilings trimmed with crown molding, and fixtures that looked something out of a old age movie. The accommodations she’d been afforded at Hilltop after Gregory never quite sitting right with her.

When she’d left the farm she’d been pretty sure that she’d never live in another house again. The thought of civilization a foreign concept, always running, sweat and death the only sure thing you could bet on at that point. The prison, Alexandria, these places were temporary havens of security that slipped through her fingers like water, her grasp becoming tighter, but the possibility never quite within her power to keep.

Her leadership within this community hadn’t been planned, merely the people saw someone willing and able to make a difference, and they’d lined up behind her and her ever expanding waist.

While the immediate threat of Negan had been managed, the next catastrophe always seemed to be looming beyond those walls.

The only comfort she’d found to aid in the anxiety of the inevitable she’d found in the form of her husband and son.

Every single day she was able to experience the world through the wonder of the eyes of a toddler. The excitement over inanimate object and goofy faces, the tickling fingers of his dad. His laughter bringing both joy and comfort into her heart, healing over the all too painful losses that never seemed to end.

She can hear the laughter coming from a room adorned with paintings of powerful women, and rugs that traded their shapes with the tidings of their occupants’ movements, the colors shifting from dark to light.

Glenn was lifting the boy up in the air, and then blowing on his little stomach, causing an infectious giggle to echo through the great room, the wooden walls providing an acoustic to a front row seat to what could only be described as domestic bliss.

“What are my boys doing?” She asks, leaning against the frame of the wooden door. Her hair softly falls in her face, her arms closed, and a close mouthed grin plays on her face at catching the pair.

“Is that Mama?” She can hear Glenn speak into their baby boy, who looks at her with a drooly, toothless smile, his hands waving wildly in the air catching his dad’s hair, and yanking with his little fingers, causing a grimace to cross his face, and a laugh to escape her.

Maggie walks over to where they’re seated, on the floor with the soft rugs, a couch supporting the back of her husband.

Leaning down, she places a kiss on the boys soft dark hair, as he brings a fist to his mouth and sucks in affection of his mother’s adoration.

“What about me?” Glenn asks, looking up at her, expecting the same treatment.

She places a soft kiss on his cheek with a roll of her eyes.

“Such a baby,” she teases.

“But you love me,” he says with the confidence of a man that knows that’s a statement rather than a question.

“God help me,” she says, sitting up against the other couch opposite them.

She glances down, her hand moving over the rug, like a paintbrush stroking against her palm, tracing the royal shapes.

Her son is turned around, facing her, precariously standing on his feet with the support of his dad’s hands, and she waves at him with one finger, the gesture, causing a smile to rise to Glenn’s face.

“I think you have an admirer,” he whispers at the boy, pointing at Maggie.

She reaches her hands out, the two of them having been trying to get him to walk for the past week.

“Come to Mama, baby,” she says her southern drawl even more pronounced wth her excitement.

His arms wave at her, his face alight with a smile, as he wobbles, Glenn’s hands coming off of him, only for him to fall on his butt, a shocked look troubling his face, looking around in confusion.

They try a few more times, the encouragement amping him up, only to have him fall, but always willing to try again, his determination and stubbornness shining through already, mirroring his parents.

It’s only when Jesus peeks his head in, alerting Maggie that she was needed that her face falls.

The hardest part of her day always when she had to leave them.

“Bye baby,” she says picking him up, smothering his face in kisses until he’s giggling, before placing him in Glenn’s lap, and placing a soft kiss on her husband’s lips before moving to leave.

She hears the hiccuping of tears as she moves to leave, trying not to glance back at her upset son…

Walking out the door two steps before she hears, “Babe, hurry, he’s taking his first steps!”

She freezes briefly, before racing back into the room to see her baby boy, the one who has her heart in his tiny palm of a hand, snotty tears streaming down his face, as he makes his first wobbly steps towards the door she’d just exited.

The littlest Rhee taking his first steps to find her.

Like father, like son.


	16. Chapter 16

Maggie tucks herself further into Glenn’s chest, seemingly never able to get as close as she would like, the separation of his journey weighing heavy on her mind.

His arm comes to pull her closer over her stomach, her head resting on his other arm, having long since turned from a tingling feeling of sleep into one of no feeling what-so-ever, but happily willing to sacrifice an arm in the exchange if it meant getting to keep her this close.

Her hair tickles the tip of his nose, and he smiles into her. This right here the exact reason he’d tried so hard to get back, the warm body resting on him, and the even tinier one resting underneath his hand.

To be denied the chance at being a dad a possibility that had seemed all too real just a day ago, the hope that he kept locked up tightly in his chest, having only been allowed to burst free upon seeing her face.

Her fingernails trace the veins on his hand resting against her, the soft comfort of running blood, living proof that he’d made it back home to her.

“Don’t leave me,” she whispers into the quiet dark, and sigh of relief floats over her ear, rustling her hair.

She peeks back at him, her toes tucking in between his shins.

“I kept thinking about the farm,” he says, as if it were a lifetime ago. And for them, it seemed like it was. The safety they had felt for such a brief time had slowly been stripped away from them. “I pushed you away…do you remember?”

She nods into his arm, a smile peeking out against her lips at the thought of a time when they tried to deny each other, an almost fond memory, before they became so intertwined, they found themselves with promises of forever and a baby.

“I didn’t want you to be sad if I didn’t come back…”

“Not possible,” she confirms, knowing full well that even back then, had he not come back, it would’ve wounded her in a way she still couldn’t describe. But now, now there was so much more to live for, and yet, the same feeling remained, only stronger.

“I was scared to love you..,” he admits, and he can feel the warmth spread across his cheeks at the confession. “Because I didn’t want to lose you.”

She interrupts their position, twisting around, loosening his hand, but still remaining on his numb arm, her eyes now facing him.

The tranquil green captures his brown in her gaze, her closed-mouth smile something so familiar he could see it even when separated from her, the curvature of her lips having long since been memorized fro a rainy day, and they seemed to come so often. He can’t keep his now free hand from bringing it to those lips, gliding over them with the pad of his thumb, landing on the middle.

A small kiss placed upon his finger.

“And now?” She ventures, knowing that his answer had surely changed just based on his actions.

“I’m still scared of losing you,” he says with a shy laugh. “But all I want to do is love you.” He admits, ducking his head, placing it against her forehead, their steady breaths keeping in time.

“Me too.”


	17. Chapter 17

“Have you seen Maggie?” Glenn asks, a hand on the shoulder, and an easy smile to one of the Hilltop residents. A point and a nod towards the high fence, suggesting that she’d wandered outside of the safe zone. Although these days, there wasn’t really any area that was completely safe.

“Thanks,” he says, making his way outside the walls. His hand immediately coming to block the sun from his face, the hot day beating down on him and certainly Maggie.

Always on alert, but somewhat more at ease in a field that looks pretty empty, he lets his mind wander. The days seeming to drag by with an increasingly slow speed, a sweltering death of time, his payback for having survived the lineup. But he found that for as frustrating and on edge as he was, Maggie threw herself further and further into plans and strategies, leading the people of Hilltop as a surrogate leader, given the incompetence of the figure head, Gregory.

Nothing about him seemed right to Glenn. A man of integrity he was not, all but willing to have thrown the lot of them out to fend for themselves, wanting to save his own ass. He knew if they waited long enough, they’d find that he’d stab them in the back as soon as he could, when the time was right.

Looking out, his hair falling into his face, he spots Maggie, several yards away. She’s down on the ground, attempting to unearth some sort of plant. His Maggie, always the farmer’s daughter, he thinks with a silent laugh.

There behind her stands Gregory, knife poised at his hip, and though he can’t quite make out what he’s doing, the scene doesn’t sit right with him. The danger posed to his wife and unborn child twisting his stomach into a knot.

Gregory turns, bringing his hand to his forehead, the indecision, and shake of his head seemingly obvious, his motives reading even this far away, and Glenn’s about to take off into a run to them when he sees a walker approach.

He tries to calm himself, knowing that Maggie is fully capable, able to take care of herself, having now risen to her full height, her back no longer facing towards the treacherous man just awaiting opportunity.

So his brow shoots up when it’s Gregory that goes after the walker, only to have him feign a chivalrous act disguised in cowardice as Maggie goes after the walker. But distance giving him a clearer view, he sees the second walker approach, and that’s when his feet start kicking up dust.

He doesn’t want to yell her name, cause a disturbance, attracting more to their location or to distract her from the task at hand. But as Gregory hits the ground, he doesn’t have the smarts to realize the same thing, and begins shouting, “Maggie, Maggie,” in sharp, high pitched screeches.

By the time he runs up, exhausted, worry painted his face, Maggie’s taken care of both of the walkers, not even the least bit bothered by the encounter, as Gregory’s blood smeared face, hangs in embarrassment.

“He hadn’t killed one before,” Maggie explains to Glenn. “He’s learning,” she says, like the man who was contemplating stabbing her in the back was just another student of her’s, basking in the knowledge that she had to offer.

She puts her hand out, patting Gregory’s back, as he keeps his head low, thanking her, before wobbling off past Glenn, who just stares back, before turning back to Maggie.

“Are you okay?” He asks, his hands coming to her face, shielded from the sun in her cap, a closed-mouth smile directed towards him.

“He said he wanted to protect the pregnant lady,” she says with a nod, a gleam in her eye.

“Looks like the pregnant lady protected him,” he says, surveying the situation.

She lowers her head with a slight blush.

“Just keep look out as I finish, okay?”

“Yep, protect the pregnant lady, got it,” he jokes back at her.

She laughs as she busies herself back to the task at hand.

“You know he’s going to turn on us, right?” He says, his serious tone sobering the moment.

She stops digging, stilling her movements, looking up at him.

“I know,” she quietly admits, both of them exchanging nods.


	18. Chapter 18

Maggie walks through the yard, her head held high, willing the stagnant air to give her a gust of wind to get the short hair out of her face. Her boots kick up a trail of dust in her wake, the once black shoes turning a shade of brown, death surrounding her even in the smallest of forms.

Her hand twinges with pain, and she shakes it next to her leg, thinking the tingle would fling from its place. The satisfied but determined grin on her face not even deterred by the pain building in her knuckles. It’s as if she can feel the blood collecting underneath the irritated area, gathering itself to a bruise, announcing to all what had happened.

She can remember the first time she’d punched someone. Matthew Rowan, 5th grade. He’d spread a rumor that he kissed her, and she’d not taken kindly to the gossip swirling around her. She can distinctly recall the red headband pulling back her longer hair, and the way her hair had whipped around her face outside as she made her way to recess. The teasing, the looks, the giggles coming from everyone. She’d lasted all but half a day before she confronted the guy, who played it off like he’d never even heard her name, despite the fact that they’d attended the same school since they were five. He’d called her Margaret in a sneering voice, and before she could think, she’d winded up and punched the guy, who stood shorter than her.

The memory playing vividly in her mind, it wasn’t even a shock to her now that the use of other names stirred something in her that called upon a violent streak, sometimes physical action the only thing that can catch a guy’s attention. A lack of respect present, her fist demanding to be heard.

She’s entering the trailer before she knows it, Glenn sitting at the table, Sasha and Enid next to him, all three of them looking up when she enters.

His eyes immediately cover the length of her, always seemingly checking to make sure she’s okay, before it lands on her hand, narrowing in on the problem.

“What happened?” He asks, hovering over his chair, as she quickly strides over to where they’re sitting in a few steps.

“Nothin’. Just needed to be heard, “ she says, her bruised hand reaching out to run its way through Glenn’s hair.

“Gregory,” Sasha says, not even a question, but rather a disgusted statement, the distaste of that man having been bitter to her tongue as well.

“I hate that guy,” she hears Glenn mutter, a frustrated expression on his face.

“Looks like Maggie agrees,” Enid says with a smile.

Glenn’s fist comes to smack against the table, catching the attention of everyone, anger never an emotion people are used to seeing from him.

Standing up, he’s facing Maggie, the hand causing the disruption, moving to her face.

Her green eyes attempting to catch his brown gaze, his thumb running over the bags underneath her eyes, and she leans into his hand.

“I don’t trust him,” he says, his eyes coming to meet her’s, a plea in his voice, not to her, but to the universe to keep them safe.

“None of us do, the guy’s a snake,” Sasha says with a shake of her head.

Maggie glances down at the table towards her, fighting back a grin, before refocusing back on her husband.

Her hand comes to reach across, resting on his forearm, her thumb now doing its best to soothe him, reassure him that for right now, they were okay. The most she could offer him ever, that somehow they’d find a way.

His eyes close, bringing his forehead to her, the stray hair still hanging in her face now caught between the two of them. Their breath dancing together in a ragged assembly of fragile hearts and bruised limbs, but able minds to take on whatever threatened them.

“I’d offer to go beat him up, but it seems you’ve taken care of that,” he whispers against her, his eyes trailing over the bruised knuckles gripping him tightly on the arm.

“Next time,” she says with a quirk of her mouth, her nose moving against his.

“Looks like you got it covered, I’ll lend my hand at backup,” he says with a hint of a laugh.

“You got my back.”

“I’ve got your back.”


	19. Chapter 19

Maggie bites her bottom lip with a smile, as the colors of her face blur together in the flame, the film of the picture melting into the curvature of the rocks below.

She glances out of the corner of her eyes, seeing Glenn’s eyes focused on the image of her that was quickly morphing into something unrecognizable. She knew that it had been a lifeline of sorts, his only picture of her, covered in blood, and rolled up in a blanket.

“I umm, I’d pull that out when…” he stumbles, and she knows. She knows. She only wished that she had also had a picture of him that she could add to the burning pile now. Instead, she’d been running on the memory of him in her mind.

But the success of the attempt, the fact that they had survived and found each other filled her with a confidence that had her making sweeping gestures like lighting her picture on fire, so damn sure that they would never be separated again.

It wasn’t a guarantee in the sense that it wouldn’t happen, more in the sense that she wasn’t about to leave him again.

His face looked less sure, which was odd coming from the guy who had such an optimism about him that she found it contagious.

And she’d needed the distraction. The death of her father would likely worm its way in if she let the memories of Glenn she’d been replaying on a loop suddenly stop.

“I know,” she assures him, her arm once again linking with his. Her finger slowly drawing patterns on his knee, dipping up and down through the joint.

“I never want to be away from you again,” he says, echoing through the tunnel until the group behind them can surely hear. He voices the sentiment that they’re both thinking. The one they’d both like to be true, but deep down knew better.

Maggie had just witnessed, again, how easily those you love can be taken from you, in this world, in the worst way possible.

She can still feel the chain link fence digging into her fingers, the heat beating down on her, the cries of her sister, the rage that so quickly took the place of sadness, only lifted by the worry ingrained in her with the separation from Glenn.

It was always go, go go, here. Never settling long enough to let the sadness take over too long, but knowing the next tragedy was just around the corner, optimism shining through with the small victories that came in the form quick finds and another day survived.

But not today. Today was a big win.

“I love you,” she says, a toothy smile flickering in the firelight.

He doesn’t hesitate to lean in, lowering his knee to where she’s grasping for something to hold onto. Choosing to relocate to his face, her hands cradling his jaw, a big goofy grin reflecting back at her, until the sentiment is sealed with a kiss.

Her head coming to rest on his forehead, a deep sigh shared, before he’s moving to place a kiss on her head, gentle, sweet, everything she’d come to know about him, and had missed.

“You got this,” she whispers, soothing his worried mind about the unknown future.

“We got this,” he amends, always a we, never an I. “I love you too,” he whispers back at her.

And she knows that, at least for now, everything’s right.


	20. Chapter 20

Maggie grips the steering wheel tighter, her knuckles beginning to turn white from the grip permeating through her fingers, restricting her blood flow - a soft pain channeling her frustration into a physical manifestation. The rain pelts her car, the pinging of the water ringing out across her hood, cascading down the windows to obscure her view of the restaurant she is parked in front of.

She had another fight with her dad, ending in raised voices, a quick hangup, and the tossing of her phone into the empty car seat next to her. Lately, her bickering with her farther had become pretty much their only way of communication. He didn’t seem to approve of anything she did - her latest offense being that she’d decided to stay in the city during the summer instead of coming back to the farm to help out.

With a deep sigh, she lowered her head to rest on the steering wheel. Tendrils of sun streaked brown hair fell to the side, shielding her face from any prying eyes, allowing her a cloaked moment of silence to collect herself.

In her haste to sever any chance of returning to the farm, she realized that she would need to get a job to support herself for the few months before school started back up again. Of course, having waited so long to venture out to do just that, most places had already filled their quota on summer workers, and she was left with very few options.

Slowly lifting her head, she steeled herself for the interview that awaited her. Grabbing her things, she made a mad dash to the awning, looking like a drowned rat by the time she made it through the glass door.

The restaurant was new, not even officially opened yet. The fresh paint smell still permeating the small space, everything shiny, never been used.

The interview had been conducted by a woman who seemed nice enough, asking her questions she was able to answer without pause and before she knew it, she’d been hired, with a time and date to come in to start. The laid back attitude just what she needed for a summer spent escaping the creed of laws her father laid out, never to be broken. Instead, freedom.

A quick tour of the place had her wandering through the empty kitchen, looking to where the schedule would be posted every week, her finger tracing over the names already adorning board, before her hand flopped down onto her wet jeans. Drips of water still coming from her hair, a lost cause if there ever was one.

With a goodbye and smile to appear for her first shift the owner disappears into the back, and she turns to exit the restaurant, only to run smack into someone, throwing her and him off balance, a slippery floor with no mats yet to stop them from slamming to the ground.

“I’m…oh geez, I’m sorry, I didn’t…are you okay?” The guys asks, hands fumbling to help her up but doing little to nothing with both of their wet skin causing his hand to slip down her arm.

She’s half tempted to yank her arm away, but as she sits on the floor, entangled in the limbs of this guy, she can’t help but laugh a bit at his awkward apology, his face heating up despite the cold rain, fumbling with the baseball cap that sat atop his head.

“Watch where you’re goin’ next time,” she says, and it scares the guy, his head immediately dipping at her reprimand.

“Right, yeah, I’m sorry, I really am,” he finally gets out, standing up to squeaking sneakers, extending his hand to help her off the ground.

When she’s standing, nearly pulling him back down as he helped her up, she meets his eyes for the first time.

His mouth hangs open in a tiny o shape, openly staring at her, and she’s embarrassedly pushes her wet hair back behind her ears with a smile.

“I’m uhh, I’m Glenn,” he greets her, and she meets his introduction with silence and a raised eyebrow. So he continues. “I work here, obviously, I umm, deliver the pizzas or I will be, in my car…” he trails off, and she can see himself mentally kicking himself for the last part.

“Maggie,” she replies, and he smiles at her name.

“You work here too?” He asks, hesitantly.

“I guess so,” she says, looking around again, at the place that will occupy most of her time the next few months.

“Then we’ll probably be seeing each other a lot,” he says, choking on the last part, making his voice squeak like his sneakers.

A closed mouth smile peeks out from her.

“Maybe not if you’re always out delivering pizzas…in your car,” she adds, teasing him.

“Oh…yeah…maybe not then,” he says, his hands coming to the back of his neck, and Maggie shakes her head at him.

“I’ll see ya around, Glenn,” she says, pushing her way out of the door, leaving him gaping at her from inside, while she makes a run for it back to her car.

Her hands coming to rest on the steering wheel again, this time a soft smile spreading from her face, the frustration from earlier having dissipated, the start of her summer, pelted in rain and her arm tingling from the touch of the pizza boy, Glenn.


	21. Chapter 21

Maggie wiggles in her discomfort, her eyes popping open. The nausea washing over her, traveling across her body, overheating her with that same feeling she’d been having all too often lately. It sends her bolting for the bathroom, the bed and the flop of Glenn’s arm that had been wrapped around her abandoned.

At this point she doesn’t even have anything in her stomach to get sick, the mucus of a dry heave the only contents able to be sacrificed to the porcelain demanding its toll for the baby that grew inside her.

The cool tile of the floor calling to her, as she slowly slides down, releasing her grip on the toilet, to spread her hands out beside her, putting the side of her face on the floor. She can feel the feverish sweat evaporate, as the tile works its magic on her, having become something of a good friend, one that she was well acquainted with by now.

The sight of Maggie lying on the floor, spread out, as much skin as possible touching the floor, eyes closed, and deep, laboring breaths might have caused Glenn panic before (and it did). But after a handful of times, she can hear recognize his bare feet on the floor approaching her, and while the worry still lingers, she hears more of a sigh of relief, the sight of the empty bed not something either of them care to see these days.

He doesn’t need to say anything, as she peers up at him from the floor, a slow smile catching on the hard surface, leaving her with a crooked grin.

Letting out a vocal shake of his head, that little smile she’d long since memorized pops up on his lips, as he extends his hand to her, gently lifting into a standing position, her greasy hair matted to her face.

And when he starts undressing her, she can’t say she really remembers, as her eyes close at the gesture, her shirt shed to the solace of her friend, the floor. Her hands coming to rest on his shoulder, her head resting on her arms, as he struggles to undo her belt and jeans. The clanking of the metal making her smile at how many times he’d tried to quickly remove her pants, the endgame far more enjoyable than just cleaning themselves off, raucous laughter carried throughout the house, the feeling of running water washing down them leaving them giddy and eager.

By the time her eyes open, the water’s running, the trickle reminiscent of raindrops hitting a car windshield, the steam clouding their vision, and taking its place on the mirror, blurring its occupants.

Stepping under the spray, his hands are there to steady her, the last thing either of them needed was her slipping in the shower.

His long hair falls into his face, wetly clinging to his skin covering his eyes under the water, she laughs at the sight, his hair long overdue for a cut. Her own hair hitting the back of her neck, and the realization that she too had let her hair grow out to a length that was once a burden, now a sign of age, days survived.

Her nails travel over his scalp, the shampoo working its way into his hair, his eyes fluttering shut on instinct, the long lashes tracing the edges of his eyes, lost in a thought of their child with the same long, fluttering eyelashes, leaving her letting loose another laugh that has him peeking his eyes open at her. His hand coming to turn her around.

She knows exactly when he gets to the bruise, the soap lightly traveling over her skin, following the path of her spine, his knuckles catching more skin than the actual residue of the soap. Her hair veiling her eyes, a dark shield against the pulse of the bruises having formed on her. 

He pauses, and she swears she can feel the remorse and relief cloud his eyes, radiating off of him, casting onto her back. The possibility of what could’ve been hanging over them. Pushing her hair out of her face, she stares ahead, the immediate danger having been pushed back, eradicated, the looming threat always present.

Glenn’s face comes to press into the back of her head, a silent prayer of closed eyes and reflections on just how differently he could’ve been taking her home. Their luck always threatening to run out, but persisting through the darkness like a beam of light in the form of their child. 

Turning to rest her own head against his, a tight, closed-lipped smirk comes to her face. An equally silent promise that they were okay. Guarantees were something of a fools errand, never able to be carried out, the love between them the only promise they were able to bet on.

Never once taking for granted the time they had together, Maggie knowing full well what he meant to her.

His arms come to wrap around her, careful of her bruises, his thumb drawing slow, soapy circles over her stomach that still remained flat, as the water continued to sprinkle them in a dome of tranquility, security for just a moment, the three of them, safe.

The start of another day, together.


	22. Chapter 22

This time of morning was her favorite. The sun had just kissed the ground, not yet having heated the air to the sticky heat that would soon touch itself upon her and the rest of them. Dew clung to the grass, and her bleary eyes took in the new day, grateful for the allowance having been bestowed upon her.

Her short hair, every grown inch a reminder of another day, now hung in her face, her hat having been abandoned inside for the time being. She sat upon the steps, the wood digging into her back in just the right way, alleviating the pain that had stayed with her through the night.

She pulls the large shirt further around herself, the plaid tickling the palms of her hands, and just barely wrapping around her growing stomach. She smiles down at the sight, her fingernail moving to trace the lines of the shirt down her abdomen, eliciting a kick against her, a good morning of sorts that beat against her to the rhythm of her heart.

Maggie can hear Glenn rummaging through their trailer. The actual number of items they could call their own were few and far between these days. The size of their living quarters having shrunk dramatically.

“Babe, have you seen my shirt?” He calls from inside, and her closed-mouth smile from before reveals some teeth at his question. She lowers her head, her freckles made more obvious by the sun.

“Hey, have you seen my plaid—“ He gets out before he sees her sitting on the steps in the exact shrit he’d been searching for.

“I mighta seen it around,” she teases, looking up at him with the same grin, her sweeping back to reveal her face, partially guilty, but mostly amused.

He laughs, his hand coming out to cradle the side of her face, before taking a seat next to her on the tiny steps.

“I should’ve known,” he says with a little grin, his hands coming to extend on his knees, glancing over at her.

“Nothin’ fits me right,” she says, leaning back to give him the view of her stomach threatening to burst through the buttons, straining in overtime to keep her covered, her skin peeking through if not for the tank top on underneath.

The grin refuses to leave his mouth as he hears her refer to their growing child. His hand coming out to swipe across the expanse of her stomach, a place his hand seemed to gravitate to since the moment he’d found out, almost unconsciously. She woke up more often than not with his hand planted against her, and if not, his eyes furtively flickering to where she was.

“Looks better on you anyway,” he claims, and as she looks down at his hand, she can’t help but think that even if that were so, he had something to do with that. “You too, Bean,” he whispers to the baby.

She gives a deep, content sigh, the first of the morning threatening to heat up into the afternoon, even the winter months shouldering the humid day, but she was not yet ready to give up her peaceful moment of reflection just yet. Her head moving to rest on his shoulder, his longer hair tickling her temple.

“You know, at some point we’re going to have to come up with a name other than Bean,” she teases.

“What’s wrong with Bean?” He asks, innocently, with only a hint of a joke, and she knows that regardless of the name they come up with, that nickname might just stick. Her heart swelling whenever it slipped out of his mouth.

“Nothing,” she says, refusing to spoil the moment, perfectly happy to have him call their baby whatever sweet endearment he wanted for the rest of time.

“Hazel,” he whispers, his voice coming out serene, not the least bit nervous.

“Hmm?” She asks, lifting her a head a bit to get a look at his eyes.

He smiles at her, the confused green meeting his deep brown, mixing into a question of his statement

“Hazel would be cute,” he says, earning a big kick from her stomach, the cadence of his voice always exciting the little girl inside her.

Maggie laughs at the reaction, joined by Glenn.

“Looks like we have a winner,” she says.

“Grheene Bean approved,” he says with a nod, his fingers dancing across the plaid.

The quiet, family moment only cementing that this was indeed her favorite time of day - the start of everything new.


	23. Chapter 23

Maggie lays on her cot, the air sticky, and clinging to her, refusing to let her out of its grip. She moves her forearm to swipe the stray hairs that are matted to her forehead, the grime from her arm marking her on the forehead. A sign of the world they live in, the hard work she found herself still doing, despite how pregnant she was.

The watch dangles from its chain, circling over her stomach, exposed to the air, partially in an attempt to get the sweaty tank top off of her…but mostly because the kicks of her baby girl were so visible through the skin, it made her smile to see her baby squirming away inside of her. She’d move, and it resembled the waves of the ocean. A tide that never came to sink her in the sand, but rather drug her out to sea with the fascination of a first time mother. Immersing herself in everything there was to offer. Not wanting to yet relinquish the safety of her baby inside her.

She hums a soft song, a tune she hasn’t allowed herself to think about in a long time. The voice stirs the baby.

“Ya like that, Bean?” She asks in a soft twang.

“I remember that song,” Glenn says from the door, moving to enter the trailer.

Maggie’s head turns toward him, the sad smile never leaving her face.

“It feels like a lifetime ago,” she admits, and it’s true. With everything that they’d been through, the deaths piling up, a long list of loved ones that they kept on losing, it was hard to keep track of how long ago everything was. The days blurring in the air, muffled waves of heated losses, with only the knowledge to keep going.

Glenn approaches, sitting down next to the cot, his arm resting on the side, touching her arm, his face focused on her bare stomach, and gives a shy, proud smile at her display.

“That was a good night,” he reminisces, the hard work they’d put in that day, the relief they’d felt at having fences guarding them. Another pregnant woman back then feeling safe for the first time in a long time. The fire dancing in their eyes, and the song slipping from her sister’s lips, and then Maggie’s, something to celebrate. Their father smiling on as he listened.

“Yeah,” she agrees, the memory of that night colored in a sweet fondness but tinged in a sorrowful grief that it was one of the last. Most of her good memories tainted with the same feeling, the calm before the storm.

And the realization that Glenn could’ve been included in that. Her best friend, her husband, the father of her child, mourned like the rest of them, memories lined up in a queue of last moments before the end.

She lowers the watch, the same one he never parted with for too long, and grabs onto his hand, the watch cradled between them, separating their palms, their fingers entwined.

As if sensing what she’s thinking, he squeezes her hand tightly, knowing that every day could be the day they were taken from each other, their luck bound to run out eventually, but thankful that that wasn’t right this second.

“We don’t have to talk about it,” he assures her, making a similar move, and pushing the hair from his face with his free hand.

“No, I need to do this,” she says with a scrunch of her nose, a determined, set line to her lips.

He nods as if remembering what the losses had done to her before.

“Our baby should know that…” she starts, pausing to catch her breath. “She…she should know the songs her aunt sang, and the feel of the watch that her grandpa gave her dad…

“We’ve all god jobs to do…” Glenn repeats, and Maggie gives a close-mouthed smile.

“She’ll know how brave and funny…and impulsive you are,” she says with a groan, and a gentle squeeze back on his hand.

“And how strong her mom is,” Glenn counters.

“Stop, you’re gonna make me cry,” she says, jerking on his arm.

“She’ll know that too,” he jokes, the wave of her stomach signaling the sound of their voices together, almost as if confirmation to all that came before.


	24. Chapter 24

The soft muffling floated across her, unconsciously burying itself in her, touching her heart and clenching the grip he had on her even tighter. Her eyes flying open in a panic, refusing to be soothed by the voice, whose words she couldn’t quite make out, but whose cadence was familiar, the same muffled sound she often felt against her head.

Looking over, she found the bed empty, her hand reaching out to find the sheets cold, Glenn having abandoned his side of the bed some time ago. Her eyes fly to the bassinet next to her side of the bed, empty as well.

Leaning over, she sees the alarm clock signaling her that she hadn’t slept for more than an hour. Her body so exhausted, but her mind unable to rest, instead her thoughts were consumed with the little girl that had come into her life just a couple of days ago. Her tiny little hand not even able to wrap around her whole finger, her dark wispy hair tickling the tips of her fingertips, the little body pressed against her chest a feeling so natural and familiar, she’d been unable to imagine a time she didn’t have that.

Kicking her feet out of the covers, she moves down the hall to the baby’s room, one that they’d agreed was just a little too far away for Hazel to to be on her first night home from the hospital, and likely for quite some time. But that’s where the voice was coming from, nothing but a nightlight illuminating stars against the walls.

Peeking into the room, she sees Glenn planted in the rocker, a tiny bundle resting in his arms, as he quietly speaks in whispers to their baby girl.

The creaking of the floorboard alerts him to her presence, and she gives him a guilty smile, as she tiptoes further into the room next to him.

He smiles up at her, the same guilty grin mirrored back at her.

Settling onto the arm of the chair, leaning up against his side, she leans over to get a good look at the baby, sound asleep.

“I didn’t even hear her cry,” Maggie says in a hushed voice.

“She didn’t…” Glenn admits with a sheepish smile.

Maggie lets out a silent laugh, as she lightly nudges him.

“I just…she’s so…” he stumbles over his words, unable to form a sentence accurate enough to describe how in love he is with the little girl that looked all too similar to him.

“I know,” Maggie agrees, unable to take her eyes off of her. Her finger coming to run along the bridge of her daughter’s tiny nose, the one feature that they were positive was all Maggie. 

She’d never had any doubt that Glenn would make a good dad, the kind way in which he treated her, and everyone around him, really only spoke to how gentle and sweet he’d be with his own child. Sneaking off in the middle of the night just to hold her one of so many reasons she knew he’d provide as evidence to her assumption.

Hazel stirs in her sleep, moving her arms briefly, making both her parents gasp at the cute gesture, before settling back to sleep.

Smiling down at her, Maggie could so easily see their life. Glenn playing with her in the yard, her chasing him around, spoiled rotten by her Aunt Beth and Grandpa, her friends teaching her a slew of bad habits, all the while adoring her, pizza sauce smeared on her face as she dives into her meal, a tiny twang to her voice like her, and a gentle heart like her dad.

“We should probably try to get some sleep,” Maggie whispers, not even moving a little bit from her perch on the chair.

“Just a few more minutes,” Glenn reasons, his thumb moving up and down her little leg, causing her lip to adorably quirk at the movement.

“Okay, maybe a little longer,” Maggie agrees, leaning closer to place her hand on the baby’s chest, feeling it move up and down, before a kiss rests against her temple from Glenn, more than content for a sleepless night to be able to spend time with her little family.


	25. Chapter 25

They fled through the woods, their feet cracking the branches beneath them, the leaves rustling, their heavy breathing echoing through the trees.

Maggie grits down, the blood in her mouth from biting her tongue, tasting metallic, swallowing her pain. She trailed the back of the group, Glenn’s grip on her arm only slightly distracting her from the contractions that seem to tear through her lower half.

“Glenn,” she tries to whisper, and she can see Glenn’s face at her panicked plea. It paints into one of too afraid to stop, but the urgency of the situation too critical not to.

“Guys,” Glenn tries to grab the attention of the others. “We have to stop,” he says, his eyes swimming with fear.

Daryl’s the first to approach, his bow down, but ready to shoot if need be,she struts back, looking out, as Glenn lowers Maggie down to the ground, her eyes closed tightly, her teeth digging into her bottom lip, refusing to be the reason someone is alerted to their location.

“We can’t stop here, it’s too dangerous,” Tara whispers, casting her eyes worriedly to the couple as Rick comes over, his boots crunching the leaves as he approaches.

“Well we can’t go on any further, not in her condition,” he points to Maggie and Glenn hunched over against a big rock. 

Maggie squeezes Glenn’s hand, his forehead coming to rest on her own, and she feels a sense of calm come over here for the briefest of seconds, before she lurches forward in pain, the contractions getting stronger and close together.

“We’re gonna have to deliver the baby here,” Carol says, pushing her way towards the front, a no nonsense manner about her statement, but her eyes betraying her, as Maggie looks up at the declaration.

She nods at the woman, bending down to help her, as Glenn watches on with rapt attention, refusing to let go of her hand.

“We’ll secure a perimeter,” Rick says, leaning down to them. “But I don’t know how long we’ll be able to hold it.”

The warning casting a timeframe on an event that was surely going to come at is own speed, ready or not.

Enid hangs back, but Glenn assures her, they’re okay, and Carl leads her with him.

The others quietly scatter, leaving the three of them in the middle of a circle, a bubble of sorts, contingent on them being quick and quiet, neither of which Maggie was too sure was going to happen.

“This wasn’t exactly how I pictured this happening,” Maggie says with a tinge of fear coating her voice, as Carol makes work of examining her.

“Really? This is exactly how I pictured this moment,” Glenn says, trying to lighten the mood, a small smile playing on his lips. The situation not ideal, the danger looming over them, one that had plagued her mind the entire pregnancy. 

“You ready?” Carol asks, her friend’s hands resting on her knees, and she’s tempted to shake her head side to side, convinced that if she just took a deep breath, she could keep moving, keep her baby safe inside her.

She looks over at Glenn, worried, always concerned for her, but he nods. And that seems to be all the confidence she needs.

Tears start to prick her eyes, not from the pain, but the overwhelming fear that’s ripping through her, threatening to take everything from her.

“You gotta push, Maggie,” Carol says, and a sob wracks her body, the sound piercing the woods.

“Shh, baby, shh,” Glenn whispers against her, and she nods, this time gritting down and pushing as hard as she can.

The sweat gleaming from her forehead catches in the sun, her silent cries caught in the stagnant humidity of Virginia. Glenn whispers encouragement against her skin, her hand never released from his grip.

The leaves rustle beneath her body, a branch planted in the middle of her back, and the distinct sound of its crack on a particularly grueling push, it’s the one that signals its break just as her baby is born.

Her soft cries break the silence, as the panic races through them all, along with a love that surgest to the forefront.

Glenn offering up his plaid shirt, wraps his daughter in the material, before holding her close, shushing her cries with his soft whispers, just as he’d done to his wife mere moments ago.

Maggie collapses against the wooded floor. Her hair tangling with the brush, a content smile spreading across her face.

And it’s not long before the sound of footsteps approach them, Carol pulling out her weapon, until she sees Carl making a run towards them.

“We gotta go,” he says, his eyes flickering between them, until it lands on the small baby resting in Glenn’s arms. A smile comes to his face, before running off to where he’d been.

Maggie’s weak, but the first to rise of the three, more determined than ever to protect her family. Her legs shake, and she nearly falls, but refuses to take a moment.

Glenn brings the baby closer, enamored with her dark hair, and pouty lips, her tiny fingers curled into fists.

“She’s beautiful,” Carol offers with a nod, before helping Maggie get dressed.

They’re soon met with the group, their family eager to see the newest member, but knowing that it’s time to flee, no longer wanting to be sitting ducks.

Daryl saunters up to Glenn, peeking at the small baby girl.

“You ready to run, kiddo?” He asks in a gruff voice, shaking his hair out of his face.

She’s soon passed off to Maggie’s arms, tucking her closely to her chest, and she swears her heart bursts at being able to hold her baby for the first time, surrounded by her family, willing to risk their own lives for the life her and Glenn’s child.

“Let’s go, baby girl,” Maggie whispers, as Glenn’s hand comes to support her, as they quietly move on their way.


	26. Chapter 26

Maggie’s knife slices through, smooth, swift cuts, each more confidence than the last. Her eyes focus on the task at hand, her shorter hair falling into her eyes, and she lets out a puff of air through a quirk of her mouth to try to get it out of her way.

Her chin crinkles with concentration, creating the tiniest of dimples to appear at the tip of what would be her closed-mouth smile.

It’s his soft laugh that has her breaking eye contact to look up at him with a confused look.

“What?” She asks, looking around, down at her shirt, her wrist moving the defiant hair from her face.

“You’re beautiful,” he says, a defense if there ever was one, a slight blush covering his cheeks.

“Funny,” she cracks, lightly pushing him with her free hand. “You done with that cheese already?”

“Yep,” he declares, proudly displaying his bowl of grated cheese to her.

She groans before quickly going back to finish cutting the pepperoni, very thinly, using up all her patience.

“This is the last time we’re makin’ homemade pizza,” she grumbles, and he laughs at her again.

“It’ll be worth it, trust me,” he assures her, as he reaches over and steals a slice of her pepperoni.

“Hey,” she says, jokingly pointing the knife at him. “Keep that up and we’ll never eat.”

He holds his hands up in innocence, but a grin appears on his face, refusing to stop teasing her.

Finishing her task, she turns to the fridge to grab a drink, as he expertly puts the toppings onto the dough.

“Mmm, that looks good,” he says, watching her take a swig of her water.

“It better, those pepperonis are perfect.”

“It’ll taste even better,” he assures her again.

He puts the pizza in the over, and she hops up onto the counter, to face him, as he begins putting things away in the small kitchen.

When Maggie had called to tell him she’d gotten an A on her paper, he’d suggested she come over and celebrate with homemade pizza.

“So how was your day?” She asks, swinging her legs back and forth against the cabinets.

“Good, one of the guys called in for his shift, so it was just me and Tessa all day,” he explains, turning on the water to wash his hands.

So he likely misses Maggie’s eye roll at the name. The little blonde had always been way too interested in Glenn, and had seen it as her personal victory when Maggie had quit to resume classes, despite the fact Glenn was dating Maggie.

“She was telling me about some party she was having this weekend, invited us to go,” he says with a shrug.

And although he might have missed the eye roll, he did not miss the scoff that comes shooting out of her mouth at the comment.

“You sure she asked us…or did she just ask you?” Maggie asks with a little more bite than he was used to.

Glenn moves directly in front of her, adjusting the baseball cap on his head nervously.

“I don’t know why you let her get to you,” he says softly.

“‘Cause I know what she wants,” Maggie states, choosing to avoid his gaze, and instead focusing on the hole in her jeans, her fingers moving to pick at the fringe.

“What’s that?” And he’s completely genuine in being utterly clueless to his own awkward charm that managed to work its way into her heart, as well as so many others, apparently.

Looking up into his brown eyes, she sees just how much he adores her, that awkward guy she’d met on her first day still there, but with a confidence now that she found endearing, still undeterred by anything thrown at them, his unrelenting optimism something she wasn’t willing to lose.

“You,” she sheepishly admits, her jealousy seeming unfounded at this point, knowing that even if this girl liked him (and she was pretty certain she did), she knew that Maggie had Glenn’s heart, as absolute as he had her’s.

Glenn’s brow furrows, and his mouth shrinks to a small “o,” confusion painting his features.

Stepping closer to her, both of his hands coming to rest on her knees, she peeks at him through her hair that refuses to leave her face.

“You know what I want?” He asks, and she shrugs.

“Pizza?” She halfheartedly teases, putting her head on his shoulder with a laugh.

“Well that…and…” he whispers, bringing his mouth to the shell of her ear, his cap rubbing against her head. “…you.”

She smiles against his shirt.

“You already got me,” she declares.

“I remember you telling me you weren’t even sure if you liked me…” He jokes, throwing her words back at her.

“I mighta been lyin’…” she says in her twang she never noticed she had until he’d pointed it out to her, declaring it cute.

“The truth comes out,” he says, his turn to smile into her.

Picking her head up, her hands come to his cheeks.

“I love you,” she says, enunciating each word, confirming what he seemed to already know.

“I love you too,” he replies without hesitation.


	27. Chapter 27

Maggie feels a tug on her hand, Glenn’s fingers squeezing her tighter as they rounded a corner onto the next street.

House after house, each one pristinely kept, and yet comfortably lived in, as if they had somehow escaped the world beyond the gates and stepped into the past, a neighborhood preserved from before.

Maggie’s eyes squinted, looking around, still unaccustomed to being able to take a deep breath, unsure of their surroundings.

The squeeze of her hand her husband’s way of reassuring her.

It was the first time they had ventured out to explore by themselves. They’d just finished dinner, and with joined hands, they made their way around the development, the breeze of autumn trickling in some reprieve from the humidity of summer.

“These look like the houses I used to deliver to,” Glenn muses, recalling a time when he’d been working at the pizza place, zooming his car all around the city, bringing him into neighborhoods such as this.

Maggie smiles, thinking of him in his baseball cap, sneakers, and a nervous grin, the way she’d met him, so untroubled by it all, his blind optimism and awkwardness just some of his more endearing qualities.

“In another life, we could’ve lived in one of these,” he continues with his train of thought.

“We do live in one of these,” Maggie counters, her close-mouthed grin teasing him, as she looks down at her feet, their hands swinging between them.

“You know what I mean,” he says with a laugh that sounds like a sigh, a blush still able to be called upon by her.

She scrunches her face up, shaking her head no.

“No? What are you saying, Maggie, you wouldn’t date me in another life?” The joke is there, but the insecurity, one that she thought had long since dissipated apparently still lingered in this hypothetical situation.

“I mean the house, Glenn,” she says, gesturing towards them. “I don’t know, I think I woulda wanted somethin’ a bit more…”

“In the country…” he guesses, and it’s her turn to blush a bit, looking over at him.

She nods at his guess, the wind blowing her hair in her face, and he drops her hand to push it back so he can look at her face with obtrusion.

“I could picture that,” he says a knowing smile, a recall to a time when they’d first met, the simplicity of things back then, a little slice of heaven, their own private haven, for even the short amount of time they’d managed to live under the guise of safety there.

The sadness rushes over her, the wounds of the death of her family still weighing heavy on her. And just when she thought they’d healed, she seemed to rip open the stitches, and the blood of her loved ones stained her mood, demanding the pain be felt once again.

“I think this’ll be good for us,” Glenn tries to change the subject, taking her hand in his again as they continue their walk. He glances down, and she knows what he’s referring to.

“If it lasts,” she barely whispers, the wind nearly swallowing her doubt.

“It will,” he says, determination dripping from every word.

It had only taken a few trips of racing away from the group into the wooded area before they’d made it here for him to figure out what she had been slowly recognizing herself.

She was pregnant.

His arms had wrapped around her tighter the night they could no longer ignore what was happening, and what had since turned to hesitant excitement, had started as a piercing fear shrouded in determination to get her safe. Afraid that if they stayed out there, aimlessly wandering, it would be too long, too late.

His persistence to make Alexandria a place that would work for them was a hope that she wanted as well. 

“It’s a little weird,” she admits with a shrug. Upon his raised eyebrow, she elaborates. “The idea of living in our own house, married…with a baby,” she says the last part with a laugh.

“I couldn’t even have pictured that life before all of this,” he teases, his free hand coming to the back of his neck, slowly rubbing.

“‘Cause you didn’t know me,” she teases, lifting her chin a little. “You coulda delivered me a pizza, and…”

“And embarrassed myself, mouth hanging open, and have never seen you again.”

Maggie stops them this time, he walks ahead for a second, before her hand tugs him back.

Stepping up to him, she smiles against his lips.

“Nah, we would’ve found each other again,” and his lips meet hers in a kiss that has her thinking for the briefest of moments that maybe everything would be okay. Just once.


	28. Chapter 28

“’Mama’, come on, baby,” Maggie says in a high pitched voice, her southern drawl peeking out even in the doctored voice to her daughter.

The grass tickles the little girl’s hands, as she reaches out, grabbing the blades into her fist and yanking, only to wave her hand of green in her mother’s face. She wears a smile on her chubby cheeks, completely ignoring the lesson of speech being played to her.

“Say, ‘Mama’ Hazel,” she tries again, but Maggie’s daughter, although sweet, is also incredibly stubborn, and continues ignoring the pleas, too focused on the dancing grass that blows around her legs, a slight breeze offering some reprieve from the humidity.

“You’re not gonna talk for me, are ya?” She says, sitting up, her normal pitch used, causing the baby’s head to look up, her big brown eyes staring right at her.

She receives a gurgle, almost in confirmation of the question, and a smile spreads across her pursed lips. Her hair having long since grown out, her curls dangling over her shoulder, as she leans down to kiss the baby, blades of grass floating back to the ground, relinquished from the fist of the little girl, grabbing at the brown strands swaying in front of her, Maggie just moving out to the way before Hazel could get her small, but firm grasp around it.

There’s a small weed flower next to them, and Maggie reaches out, picking the flower from the ground, yellow in a sea of green, the snap of the stem audible to them both, and Hazel cocks her head to the side.

“Pretty flower,” Maggie says, tucking it behind the baby’s ear, contrasting with her dark hair.

“How about pretty, can you say that? ‘Pretty,’” she prompts, but instead the baby blindly reaches for the flower that had been planted on her head, finally grabbing on, nearly crushing it in the process, before bringing it forward, and immediately moving to put it in her mouth.

“No, no,” Maggie says with a laugh. “We smell flowers, see,” Maggie says, bringing her tiny fist to her nose, and making a display of smelling the dandelion, that while wasn’t that fragrant, she pretended that she had smelled something equivalent to sunshine, and gave a big toothy grin, that had her baby giggling.

Moving the flower to Hazel, who smashes her face into the flower, attempting to mimic her mom.

Maggie fights back a laugh, tapping her nose, one of the few features that was all Maggie on an otherwise spitting image of Glenn.

“Pretty girl,” she says, almost a whisper, Hazel’s dark lashes fluttering against her face as she stares down at the weed.

Looking up, she squints her eyes at the sunlight shining down on them. Things having been relatively quiet lately, everyone settling into a routine of sorts, jobs and tasks completed without catastrophe. Maggie didn’t want to jinx anything, but things were going well.

She reaches for a piece of fruit, popping it into her mouth.

“Apple,” she says, holding it out a bit for Hazel to see.

But she’s met with silence. Again.

“She still not talking yet?” She hears Tara ask behind her as she walks by.

“No,” Maggie says with a grin. “Stubborn thing,” she declares, shielding her eyes with her hand so she can see her friend.

“Sounds like someone I know,” Tara says, waving at Hazel.

Maggie just shakes her head, before turning back to her daughter.

“You’ll talk when you’re good and ready, huh?”

She can hear the footsteps approaching behind her, the distinct, quick gait of her husband against the grass giving her cause to smile, which seems to reflect on Hazel’s face as well, as she looks up, seeing him kneel down next to her.

“Da-da,” she nearly squeals, reaching out with her hands for him.

Glenn’s face, one of surprise, as he moves to pick her up.

“Did she just talk?” He asks, shock written all over him. “Did you just talk?” This time directing his question to his baby girl, that same high pitched voice coming from him.

Maggie just stares on in disbelief.

“Dada,” she says again, this time, absolutely no mistaking what she’d said.

“You little stinker,” Maggie says, moving to tickle her belly, as Glenn smiles on, pride surging through him, beaming in his smile.


	29. Chapter 29

She can feel her eyes droop, a hopeless gloom settling over her, sucking the life, the motivation from her body, leaving a ragged, tired, grief stricken form in its wake.

The sinking feeling in her stomach seemed to be popping up more and more lately. She didn’t know that sadness could make you physically sick, but felt the pound of the pavement on her shoes, vibrating up her leg to rattle her stomach, an empty one at that, as she felt the nausea hit. 

The back of her hand moves to her mouth, not really sure what would come up even if she allowed it. The sun was beating down on them all, leaving them with little energy, covered in sweat.

“Maggie?” Glenn asks beside her, and her eyes close, as she sways on the street. His hand comes out to steady her, sure that the dehydration was getting to her. The added heat of his fingertips on her back didn’t bother her, but they offer little comfort.

She numbly nods towards him.

“I’m fine,” she says, devoid of any emotion. Just a bored, dry tone that does little to assure him that she’s really okay. But he offers her the last of his water anyway. And she takes it to appease him, hoping to settle her stomach.

The nagging feeling in the back of her mind refusing to stop, the one that told her that it wasn’t just sadness that was creeping up on her.

Staring out at the hazy afternoon, the sun playing tricks, leaving waves in her vision, an endless pavement of abandonment and disappointment stretched out in front of them.

Glancing down, she takes a deep breath that comes out shaky. She can feel Glenn’s gaze on her as she does so, the worry written all over his face.

It’s not long before they’re taking a rest on the side of the road, Sasha volunteering to keep watch, and Maggie can see the vacant look in her eyes, just waiting for an ember to ignite her rage. Pulling her knees up closer, she lowers her head between them, taking deep breaths. The nausea refusing to relinquish its grasp on her, instead slowly climbing the rope of patience, causing a heave.

She’s up quickly, trudging through the trees, snapping branches.

Hunched over, she dry heaves into the dead grass, tears springing to her eyes, as tendrils of her air escape their place behind her ears, falling in her face, acting as a shield to the realization.

She hears a branch snap behind her, and she quickly moves, only to find her husband standing behind her.

He doesn’t say a word, instead, dropping to his knees beside her.

She moves to a sitting position, wiping at her mouth with the back of her hand. His fingers dancing across her face to push her hair back, before settling on her neck.

His brown eyes plead with her to open up, the words on the tip of her tongue, but refuse to be spilled.

She meets his eyes, her eyes taking on an emerald shade as the tears glisten the color to is vibrancy. 

He knows what she wants to say, her silence speaking louder than the if she were to utter what they both knew to be true.

A small smile makes its way across her lips, his brow furrowed with worry.

“Something else to fight for,” he whispers, his voice carrying in the wooded area, the air stagnant, with no breeze to swallow his statement, instead settling heavily on them both.

She nods, life playing its cruel trick of taking with both hands before giving back. Her hand reaching out to grab his, gripping his fingers tightly as a sob rips through her.

Glenn moves closer, wrapping her up, as she cries into him. Grief mixed with a terror so real that it could eventually evolve into quiet excitement.

“I promise, we won’t be out here long,” he whispers into her. And the promise. although genuine, feels hollow. His blind optimism leaving him with a hope for more that she didn’t always possess. But as she lifts her head to look into his eyes, that same small smile remains. A look of determination clouding his eyes. His arms holding her tight.

And although they never say the words, they both know that suddenly there’s more to them than just her and him. Now there’s an it, growing hope and life within her.

A close mouthed, watery smile peeks its way across her face, mirrored back at her. And it’s not quite giddy, that’ll come later, but it’s protective, and hopeful. Exactly what they need in that moment.


	30. Chapter 30

A moan escapes Maggie’s mouth, not even a blush daring to tint her cheeks at how much she was enjoying herself.

“That feels amazin’,” she says through another moan that comes out sounding like a groan.

A small smile peeks out from Glenn’s lips as his hands move over her socked feet, his thumb digging into the arch of her foot at just the right pressure.

Maggie had nearly limped in that night, her day’s duties done for the time being. Their trailer quiet, a tray of food sitting on the table, but the usually hungry woman had bypassed the delicious smell and instead collapsing onto her cot.

“You okay?” Glenn asks, concern tinging his voice, as his very pregnant wife closed her eyes, her hands settling on the large bump that was straining her clothing. Her shoes were still on her feet, bending over too difficult at this point, especially since she couldn’t even see her feet at this point.

She bites her lip, not wanting to complain, refusing to utter a word of distaste for this pregnancy, given how difficult it had been in the beginning, the thought of losing her child something she was unwilling to accept. Instead, she plasters a smile on her face, but her green eyes sparkle in the candlelight, begging Glenn to understand what she wants without audibly asking.

He moves over to her silently, nodding his head, as if having accurately read her mind. Reaching for her boot, he quickly unlaces them before slipping them off her feet, hitting the floor with a thud.

A huge sigh of relief has her chest rising, her eyes fluttering shut. The release of her swollen feet begging for freedom all day.

“That feel better?” He asks, anticipating her slight nod, as he runs his hands over her socks, lightly massaging the top of her foot.

There had never been one doubt in Maggie’s mind the kind of father Glenn would be. From the first moment that she’d met him, she knew that his heart was his biggest asset, as well the likeliest trait to get him into trouble, taken advantage of.

Gradually over time he’d found a happy medium, still sweet, kindhearted, but also able to stand up for himself. To to this day, one of the most attractive traits about him.

As Maggie peered over her large stomach, she couldn’t help the toothy grin that appeared, swearing she fell just a little more in love with her husband, if that were even possible.

But Glenn had exceeded all expectations when it came to her pregnancy. He was there to hold her hair when she was sick, gently rubbing her back until the nausea ceased. His patience unwavering when she’d nearly bit his head off during a mood swing that hit her hard. Or how he insisted on having in depth conversations with their baby every night before they fell asleep.

So she shouldn’t have been surprised when he’d begun the message on her feet, but she couldn’t help but find her eyes wet before she knew it.

“Maggie?” He asks, confusion painting his face.

Her hands wave in front of her, not wanting to alarm him.

“No, I just…you’re so sweet…” and she sniffles a little. “You’re gonna be such a good dad.”

The blush that had refused to give her away earlier now found its home on Glenn’s cheeks as she praised him.

Stopping his ministrations on her feet, he moves near her head. His forehead meeting her own, tear tracks staining her cheeks.

“You’re already a good mom,” he whispers back at her, their smiles mirroring each other, as she nods against him, thankful for the encouragement on an exhausting day.

“Glenn…”

“You don’t even have to ask,” he says, moving back to her feet, giving her hand a squeeze before resuming the much earned massage.


	31. Chapter 31

“Glenn,” she yells out through their apartment, her husband sitting on the couch with his legs extended to rest on the coffee table in front of him, eyes glued to the game playing on the television.

Stomping into the living room, nothing but a bra and one of his unbuttoned plaid shirts dancing in the air she was creating by moving around, the flaps floating around her, in no pants.

Glenn glances up at her, distracted by the game, until he sees how she’s dressed, and he bites back a small smile, a wise move, given that her mood swings have been particularly brutal lately.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, knowing the concerned look on her face, her chin jutting out in frustration.

“Nothin’ fits,” she announces, throwing her arms up in the air, collapsing them back down to make a smacking noise against her bare legs.

Her barely there stomach had seemingly popped over night, what once was flat, now laying heavily pronounced, straining his button up so much, she couldn’t even button it. And she makes a display of showing him just that.

“I can’t even button this,” she says her head falling back, tears instantly springing to her eyes.

He slowly stands up, and she swears he approaches her like a skittish animal, one that’s likely to flee or attack if he makes any sudden movements.

His hands move to grip the sides of his—her shirt, not attempting to button it, instead pulling her towards him, a heavy sigh escaping her lips.

“I’m fat,” she declares, a slight pout to her lip peeking out, and he can’t hide his grin any longer, a small smile playing on his lips.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers, bringing his hands to rest again her bump, and she lets out a choked laugh, like he couldn’t possibly mean what he’d just said.

“I still have nothin’ to wear,” she says, burying her head in his shoulder. Her friends having offered to take her out tonight, the wardrobe situation having caused more stress than this night out had been worth.

He twists his head, placing a kiss on her temple, reaching down to grab her hand.

“Come on, I think I have something,” he assures her with a laugh, leading her back to their bedroom.

Her lips stretching into a smile as she trails behind him, their fingers linked, her stomach peeking out with her footsteps, the shirt exposing everything.

Her free hand moving to rest on her abdomen, hoping that her baby ended up just as sweet as the husband who had willingly abandoned the game he’d been intently watching to help her.

“We’ve got a good one,” she whispers to the baby, but Glenn catches her, glancing back, a slight blush spreading on his cheeks. “You heard me,” she reiterates, catching up to him, and resting in his side, as he digs around in the closet for something.

“So do I,” he nudges her.

Her eyes flying open, hands frantically reaching for the bump that had become a comfort to her. Calloused hands finding what she was looking for, but her eyes still searching for the man she’d just been next to.

“Glenn,” she calls out, alerting the girl sitting across the room, who stood abruptly, nearly scared to death by the yelling.

“Maggie,” Enid says, worry painting her face, as she reaches for her shoulder to calm her. “It’s okay,” she assures her.

“Where’s Glenn?” Maggie asks again, her eyes already wet with tears, her hands refusing to move from the bump she still cradled. “Where is he?” She pleads, becoming nearly hysterical from the dream, a taunting look at what could’ve been.

“Take a deep breath,” Enid instructs her, but Maggie can’t seem to catch any air, her head feeling dizzy with worry. The sweltering heat playing tricks on her mind.

“Please,” she mouths, a whimper escaping her. Every blink leaving a trail of betrayal down her cheeks.

“Shhh, shh,” Enid tries, rubbing her arm up and down, attempting to calm her down, but failing.

The door nearly slamming open.

“Maggie,” she hears, and she freezes, as if unsure of what she’d just heard.

“Glenn,” she strains her voice, and Enid stands, moving so Maggie can see the man now striding up to the cot, worry etched on his face, eyes taking in her frantic state with concern.

“I’m here,” he says, she lets out a sigh of relief.

“Glenn,” she just keeps whispering over and over again.

“I’m here, I’m right here,” his whispers into her hair, as he wraps his arms around her, helping her sit up, the bump situated between them.

“Don’t leave,” she begs, and he nods into her, a silent promise she was going to hold to him.

“I won’t.”


End file.
